


Bouquet

by Phillammon



Category: Sleepless Domain (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, I am here to make you sad, Implied Character Death, Spoilers for the premise of the entire comic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phillammon/pseuds/Phillammon
Summary: Being a manager is not about making choices. Being a manager is mostly just about receiving and sending letters.Today, Arthur Clarke is receiving a letter and sending a letter.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Bouquet

It's their choice. It's always their choice. No-one else can ever make it for them.

That's the tenet that underpins my entire profession. Honestly, it's the main way we stay sane. We help them make decisions, we convey what they have chosen to the people who need to find out, we find them opportunities, but ultimately, everything they do- or don't do- is entirely their choice, from the smallest merchandising decision all the way up to choosing whether to go out at night.

Or choosing not to. Just for one night.

I'm broken out of my thoughts by the mail call. The fellow bringing the mail- I don't recognise him, he must be new- coughs politely as he sets down the neatly tied bundle of letters on my desk, then scurries off with remarkable speed. I can't blame him. Under any other circumstances, I would be avoiding me too.

My eye is immediately drawn to the hand-addressed envelope at the top of the pile. Handwritten letters are not an abnormality- in fact, the bulk of my job these days is sorting through and vetting fanmail, which is rarely if ever typeset- but the return address renders it something more of an oddity. The CDD is not in the habit of sending out handwritten letters, outside of... circumstances such as these.

I slip it out of the bundle, carefully open it, and scan through the contents. 

There's a discussion every manager has with every new team that they start working with. We tell the girls that it's because we want them to understand what they're getting into- to make sure they know that it could go all the way wrong, that one night they might make a mistake and not make it home- but that's not really why. It's paramount they don't understand, in fact. If even half of the magical girls in the City realised they were mortal, we'd be in deep trouble. No, we ask them because we need to find out their choice and write a letter. We know that someday, we might need to respond to the message I held in my hands now.

We know that if we wait too long, if, founder forbid, we needed to reply, we'd be in no state to write it, and it would be far too late for them to choose. Better safe than sorry.

Reaching into the back of my filing cabinet, I pull out a letter I wrote two years ago, before a squabbling gaggle of twelve-year-olds and their parents, a letter I'd hoped would never need to be sent, open it up, and read it over.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Fortunately, I have previously discussed this matter with the clients in question, and the conclusion was as follows:_

_Tessa Quinn: Azalea  
Sylvia Skylark: Black-Eyed Susan  
Sally Fintan: Amaryllis  
Gwen Morita: Zinnia  
Undine Wells: Blue Lotus_

_It is my sincere hope that you are able to carry out their wishes in this matter._

_Yours,  
A. Clarke_

I read over the letter once more, then seal it up, address the envelope, and stand. I need to deliver their wishes as soon as possible.

It's their choice. It's always their choice. No-one else can ever make it for them.

**Author's Note:**

> .


End file.
